


Right in the Middle of Camp

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gags, Grinding, Gun Kink, Hickeys, In Public, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: After most of the gang head out on a large, over-night group heist, you're left in charge, with few members behind. The camp is quiet, the members sound asleep, and you're left to enjoy a drink, all until a friend of yours keeps you company, in more ways than one.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	Right in the Middle of Camp

**Author's Note:**

> One of my lovely tumblr mutuals suggested this as a fic idea, and I, as always, went off the rails because MikeyB is my weakness.
> 
> Tumblr is @MALLR4TS

  
Everything happens for a reason, right? There surely must be a good reason as to why you were asked to guard the camp rather than come along on this heist. Does this mean Dutch trusts you? Putting you in charge despite not being a member of the gang for too long? You thought he would have asked Susan, but you soon found out that she'd been asked to come along instead.   
  
It was some elaborate robbery that was easily going to take a day or two. Dutch had taken a handful of his strongest members, strong in various kinds of ways, and you were somewhat offended that he didn't take you. But you let out a sigh after taking another sip of your drink, reassuring yourself that this meant he trusted you enough to keep watch of the camp and its members, as well as valuable items like the lockbox, guns, wagons, etc.   
  
You still can't help feeling a little insulted, and Dutch definitely noticed that in the way you looked at him when he went through everything with you. Oh well, you'll just continue to remind yourself that everything really does happen for a reason.   
  
But to be sat here by the campfire, drinking your sorrows away, subconsciously picking at the label on the bottle as you run through the past few weeks in your mind, trying to figure out why you weren't considered strong enough to be taken on the heist. Was that happening for a reason? You sigh again, whatever. If Dutch, your boss, wants you to guard the camp then you'll do exactly that.   
  
At least the camp is quiet, almost silent, but that's also because it's late. You'd given yourself guard duty tonight, only you'd sat your ass down straight away and began drinking instead. The last time a stranger had rolled up at camp was back in Blackwater, a sorrowful man who only asked for a bit of help and thankfully received it rather than a bullet in his head. Clemens Point was far away from any main roads, and it's hard not to notice a figure moving amongst the trees if anyone does decide to approach camp. Plus the horses would begin kicking up a fuss, well, the ones that were left.  
  
  
Your bottle is empty yet again, so you force yourself to your feet, taking extra care not to stumble over the log as you begin walking over to Pearson's wagon. A full bottle replaces the one in your hand, and you decide to wander back to the campfire, only to be stopped in your tracks as a familiar camp member calls out your voice.   
  
"Hm?" you question as your head turns to meet Micah's gaze. He's sat by himself at the table near Dutch's tent, his knife dug into the wood, forearms resting atop it. He's clearly been having a few rounds of five finger fillet to himself, training, so he can challenge Arthur yet again whenever the broody cowboy returns.  
  
"You alright, doll?" Micah asks you, his head raising up, his eyes meeting yours from under the brim of his off-white hat.  
  
"Yeah, sure," you tell him as you make your way over, leaning against the table as you take a swig from your beer.   
  
"You don't look it," Micah sighs, shaking his head a little. "C'mon, what's a matter?" he questions.   
  
You, along with Dutch, are the only two people who actually tolerate Micah. It's no surprise that the camp rejects him, especially from the way he interacts with them, but you quickly picked up on how high his walls are, and those walls must be high for a reason. For many reasons, you've been kind to him; is it because you see some of yourself in him? Is it because you believe that everyone deserves a chance? Or is it because there is just _something_ about that man that... interests you...?   
  
Either way, Micah would spend a lot of his time in your company. You found peace in the way Micah will often simply sit beside you, sharpening his knives as you get on with whatever task you're doing. Words aren't often exchanged but that's how both of you like it, no need for unnecessary chatter or gossip. Micah respects you more than you'll ever know; he has quite the soft spot for the strong woman type.  
  
"Just that heist," you say with a huff. "I'm a little... upset that Dutch didn't consider me for it."   
  
"You know what Dutch is like, he's picky when it comes to things like that, but can you blame him? Gotta play your cards right. Besides, he didn't take me neither," Micah shrugs.   
  
Your head turns to look at him as you cross one ankle over the other, still leaning against the table. "I wonder why," you say in a playful tone, making Micah grumble and shake his head.   
  
"Here I am bein' kind to you, and you're pickin' at me. Ain't very nice, hm?" Micah tuts, though you can tell he's not really annoyed as he returns your playful tone.   
  
You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your drink, definitely beginning to feel its effects. You're about to respond with another witty reply but Micah's already opened his mouth.   
  
"Why don'tcha sit with me?" he offers, picking up on the sway to your body that you weren't fully aware of.   
  
"Huh?" you question, unsure if you head that right.   
  
Micah gives you a funny look as he turns his body, moving his legs to the side of the crate, his feet firm on the floor. "Yeah... sit... like this," he babies you, pointing to his legs as if you've forgotten how to sit down.   
  
"Oh, sure," you reply, your cheeks a little rosy as the liquor continues to run through your veins.   
  
  
Micah almost jumps out of his skin as you place your hand on his shoulder, the cool leather of his coat pressed on your palm, holding yourself steady as you move. He sits upright, biting his tongue to prevent a yelp from escaping his lips as you take a seat on his lap, your rear on his thighs, your legs swung over the crate that he's sat on.  
  
Once comfortable, you look across at Micah, your eyes going wide once you see his expression. He's still sat upright, his back the straightest you've ever seen it, whilst his hands are hovering mid-air, unsure on where to place them. It's not hard to notice the blush on his cheeks, his soft freckles becoming bolder as heat rises from his skin. He's a spitting image of a spooked owl, eyes wide but his pupils are blown, both from the darkness and from your... bold move...   
  
"What?" you question. You debate moving your hand from his shoulder and standing back up, but Micah would have pushed you off if he didn't want you on his lap.   
  
"What did you think I said?" Micah asks you, his eyes slowly softening out as he rests one elbow on the table, the other gripping onto the crate he's sat on, nails digging into the wood as he tells himself to hold it together.   
  
"You... you told me to sit on you?" you nervously reply.  
  
Micah loses it, cracking up and letting out a giggle, his eyes squinting in the corners. He moves his hand off the crate, placing it on your knees, his thumb subconsciously rubbing across the fabric of your skirt.  
  
"You really are funny, you know that?" Micah tells you as he continues to giggle. "I said sit with me, not on me," he informs you, making your cheeks turn salmon red as you realize the mistake you've just made.   
  
You're about to stand up and begin apologizing, but Micah moves his hand up to your thighs, giving one a little squeeze as he finishes off his laughter. "S'alright," he tells you. "I see this as an upgrade, don't you?" Micah comments.  
  
A tone that you've heard before returns to Micah's voice, a soft purr, his pitch dropping even deeper. He's used this tone on you before, specifically when both of you are in each other's company, and each other's company only. Flirting with Micah Bell is no foreign scenario to you, though not much has happened apart from shared words in settings that are eager to get heated.   
  
You were planning on finally coming onto Mister Bell when the moment is right, hopefully during a future heist that you and Micah will privately go on, or during the dark of night when the camp is quiet. Oh, that's happening right now, isn't it?   
  
"It is an upgrade," you tell him with a small nod, your eyes moving away from his for a brief moment, so you can take another drink.  
  
"You must be quite gone if that liquor is affecting your hearing," Micah replies.   
  
"No, no. I ain't. I know when I've had enough, Micah."   
  
"That so?"   
  
"It is so," you reply, almost in a mocking tone, making Micah softly laugh. "Trust me, Micah. I'll let you know when I've had enough," you blatantly flirt, shuffling a little closer on his lap.   
  
The noise Micah lets out can only be described as a mix between a growl and a sigh, his grip on your thigh tightening after he slides his hand up it a little more. The rosiness returns to his cheeks, his eyes becoming hazy and lustful, and it's obvious that he's holding himself back as the hand he has rested on the table bunches up to make a fist.  
  
"Now I really wanna know what you're drinkin'," Micah comments. "That was a bold line for you, sweetheart."   
  
"It's just beer," you say with a shrug. You move your hand from his shoulder, your index finger softly cupping his chin as you lean in a little closer to ask him an important question. "Do you wanna taste it?"   
  
"Course I do, doll," Micah replies, visibly biting his tongue. His thighs rub together beneath you, clearly trying to get himself comfortable as the tent in his pants continues to grow.

  
Micah's expecting you to simply hand him the bottle, though his mind prays for another scenario, one that you end up doing. You take a quick swig, eyes on Micah's as you gulp down the beer. You barely tug on Micah's chin, your touch so soft but Micah moves with it, his lips meeting yours in the middle. The bitter taste of barley is heavy on your lips and Micah gulps the flavour down, instantly deepening the kiss, not holding back on something that he's been patiently waiting for.

You manage to place the almost empty bottle on the table behind you, your hand then wrapping around Micah's neck, joining the other one that has now moved from his chin. The brim of his hat continues to brush against the top of your head, the item of clothing falling back onto the crown of Micah's head, scruffing up Micah's hair a little as it moves. It's enough to irritate him, so he takes it off, placing it on the table, then resting his hand down behind you. 

The hand on your thigh is hungry, kneading at you through the layers of your skirt, massaging you, although you can sense the spark in every touch. There's already dampness growing between your legs and Micah lets out a soft chuckle against your lips as he feels you adjusting yourself on his lap. 

"C'mere, let's get you comfortable," Micah tells you as he tugs at your thigh. He urges you up, only momentarily, so he can spin his body on the crate, his back leaning against the brim of the wooden table. You sit back down on his lap, this time straddling him, your knees resting on the sides of the crate, your crotch pressed against his. 

Micah's hands snake around your waist, gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as he pulls your bodies closer. His lips meet yours again, playfully nipping at your bottom lip, enticing you to part your lips so his tongue can slip between them and finally meet yours. You don't even realize you've begun rutting your crotch against yours until Micah takes a hold of your hips, pushing your body down, urging you to rut against him even harder.

You break the kiss to let out a whimper, making Micah chuckle. He takes the opportunity to dip his head down, kissing along your neck until he reaches your collarbone. He licks a playful stripe up your neck, settling just below your jawline and nipping at that soft spot below your ear. 

"Always knew you'd make such beautiful sounds," Micah whispers against your ear before nipping at your skin again, drawing another whimper from your lips. "Keep grindin' those hips, girl, and I'll be sure to reward you after." 

You didn't even realize your hips had come to a halt, too distracted with how Micah's lips feel against your skin. He continues to kiss at your neck, leaving the occasional mark, claiming you as his own, but the grip on your hips tightens as he begins to physically roll them for you, rutting your crotch against his. 

There's not enough friction, especially when the fabric of your skirt continues to get in the way; you lift your body up, adjusting yourself, bunching your skirt up to your thighs and settling back down on Micah's lap. Micah lets out an "ooh," as he watches you get comfortable, biting his lip with a soft grin, watching you hungrily. 

"Much better," you sigh as you straddle his thigh, tilting your hips forward, so you can begin grinding your clit down against the rough denim of his pants. Your undergarments are soft enough to prevent Micah's pants from being too rough on you, just the right amount of friction to begin getting yourself off. 

Micah leans back against the table; he moves his hands from your hips, propping his elbows on the wood behind him, letting his hands fall loosely as he watches you get to work. "Guess I'll just enjoy the show," he tells you as he reaches out to his side, picking up your beer from earlier and taking a swig. Micah's got a smug expression on his face as he watches you rut yourself against his thigh, your hands gripping onto the thick leather of his coat, holding you steady. 

"Good girl," Micah praises just before taking another swig, looking perfectly relaxed for a man that has his love interest getting herself off on his leg. You feel a little bad for not rutting against the obvious bulge in his pants, so you decide to shift your hips again, shuffling up his legs in an attempt to help him get some satisfaction, despite knowing he's loving the sight of you getting yourself off on him. 

  
As you move your hips back down, the grip of one of his holstered guns brushes against your inner thigh, almost hitting your pussy. It's not as cold as you thought it'd be against the thick fabric of your undergarments, but definitely firm enough to draw an idea in your mind. You settle back down on Micah's lap, only you're off-centre; Micah raises an eyebrow but quickly clicks on to what you're doing as you begin to rut yourself against the grip of his gun, the wooden handle providing more than enough satisfaction to begin building your orgasm.

"Oh," Micah comments, watching you fuck yourself on one of his guns. "Now, you are a naughty thing, ain'tcha? Usin' every single part of me to get yourself off," he chuckles, tutting you at the end of his sentence.

"You want me to stop?" you question, a stern tone to your voice, almost as if you're threatening to.

"What? No, no!" Micah shakes his head. He moves his elbow off the table, taking a firm hold of your hip and encouraging you to grind against his firearm. "Do carry on," he coos before taking a final sip, chucking the empty bottle to the floor. 

So, you do as you're told, continuing to grind yourself against the smooth wood of his grip, your clit rolling perfectly against it, and your undergarments providing an extra layer of friction. Micah's eyes are on you, enjoying the show with a smug smile across his face; he's more than happy to tilt his head for you as you lean forward, pressing your lips against his neck, feeling his beard brush against your temple as you begin to leave marks on his pale skin.

Within minutes his neck is as red as his shirt, an array of warm blotches dotted over him, trailing down to his collar bone. You kiss over them, finding a sensitive spot below his ear; Micah lets out ah "ooh" and a shiver when you finally discover it, licking and nipping at it as your orgasm creeps closer. You soon have to pause your hard work, burying your head into the curve of Micah's neck as your orgasm takes you, trembling on Micah's lap and panting heavily.

"Atta girl," Micah coos. "That's it, cum on that precious revolver of mine," he softly tells you, almost whispering it against your ear.

You sit upright, only to press your lips against Micah's as your hips move away from his revolver, settling down on his lap. You let out a tremble as your overly-sensitive clit presses against his cock, your tremble going unnoticed as Micah chuckles during the kiss, biting at your bottom lip before breaking away.

"Doll," Micah sighs against you, "you got any idea how long I've been waiting for this?" he questions.

"No," you reply, shaking your head as you speak. "How long?"

"Mhm, I'd say since I first laid eyes on you," Micah tells you as he slowly lifts you up, holding your legs tight around his waist. He sits you down on the table, his crotch pressed against yours as he stands between your legs.

"I wasn't expecting you to be so patient," you playfully prod at him, making Micah roll his eyes sarcastically.

"Neither was I," he replies. "But, here we are, so we might as well make the most of it, hm, darlin'?" Micah asks as he begins to bunch up your skirt, settling it around your hips.

  
His eyes dart down, fingers trailing against your thighs, fiddling with the hem of your undergarments. One hand moves from your thigh, so he can trail his thumb over your wet patch, brushing against your sensitive clit; he chuckles at the way your body jolts from his light touches, flicking over the bud a few more times until his patience finally runs out.

Micah removes your undergarments a lot swifter than you expected, and you notice the grin on his face as he sits back down on the crate, his head lining up almost perfectly with your crotch as you lay back on the table. His thumb returns to your clit, softly rubbing over it, barely enough to pleasure you but of course, he wants to tease you. Micah begins to kiss along your thigh, his eyes falling shut as he plants soft kisses along your skin, trailing up to your cunt and just as he's about to reach your pussy, he moves over to the other one.

"Micah," you whimper, but he ignores you, until you repeat his name a second time.

"Mhm?" he replies, his eyes still shut as he switches between your thighs again.

"Stop bein' a tease," you protest.

Micah lightly chuckles as he moves his head away, his eyes opening to meet yours. "Why? I ain't had supper, but that doesn't mean I should rush to eat my food."

You whine and pout, and Micah seems to take pleasure in your little tantrum. "Ain't you hungry?" you ask, joining in on his game.

Micah dips his head down to lick a firm stripe up your cunt, his head moving back up and his eyes meeting yours as he replies "starving." He then returns to kissing your thighs, his thumb softly playing with your clit again. Of course, Micah Bell was going to be like this. What did you expect?

You grumble again as you lie back on the table, pushing Micah's hat to the edge, and enjoying the way his facial hair moves against your skin with every kiss. Finally, just as you were about to start protesting again, Micah settles perfectly between your thighs and begins lapping at your pussy. He's not as messy as you thought he'd be, switching between lapping at your bud, and tongue-fucking your entrance, his tongue just the right firmness to pleasure you.

Micah has a tight yet comfortably grip on your waist, his arms wrapping around your thighs, the cold leather of his coat pressing against your skin as large hands cling on tightly and keep your legs spread. "Quit tryna close those legs," Micah mutters against you, and you weren't even aware of the way your body is shaking until he comments on it.

You quietly apologize, your words being cut short as Micah grinds his tongue firmer against your clit. He moves his hands from you briefly, so he can unfasten his pants after unfastening his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor, then begins jerking himself with one hand whilst the other returns to your thigh. He's lapping at your clit, flicking his tongue over the bud and softly sucking on it every so often, making you whimper and moan, your eyes falling shut.

By now, Micah's began to groan, jerking his cock whilst enjoying the taste of you. He's growing impatient, his cock throbbing in his hand, smearing precum over his length as it dribbles down from the tip. He finally gives in, moving his mouth off your pussy.

  
Micah stands, beckoning you to sit up. You sit upright, already looking debauched, and Micah smiles at the sight of you before lowering his head to steal a kiss from you, your taste strong on his lips.

"You need to be quiet, girl," Micah says in between kisses, one hand firmly on your chin whilst the other holds the base of his cock, so he can slide it over your folds, slicking himself up and yet again, teasing you. "You think you can keep it down for me?"

"I can," you reply with a small nod, speaking directly against Micah's lips.

Micah hums as he continues to kiss you, the tip of his cock threatening to enter you, but he ruts it over your folds instead. "I ain't so sure about that, sweetheart," Micah replies, moving his head away from yours.

He looks over you quickly, clearly running through the ideas in his head. Micah then moves his hands up to remove his green neckerchief, biting at his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning at what he has planned. "Open up for me," Micah sweetly asks, smiling as you open your mouth to allow him to gag you, tightening his neckerchief at the back of your head.

"It suits you," he smugly comments, kissing your cheekbone and then leaving a peck on your lips. His hand trails back down south, and before you can tilt your head to watch where he's moving it to, Micah's already lined up his cock and began sliding into you.  
  


The sound Micah makes once he's fully sheathed inside you has made it worth the wait, a whimper so soft that you'd never expect it to come from this man's lips. He sighs deeply, eyes fixated at the sight of his length sunk deep inside you, until he looks up and flashes you a grin. "You got any idea just how good you feel?" he questions.  
  
All you can do is shake your head. Micah smirks again and comments "too damn good."  
  
Suddenly, he's thrusting into you, quick and deep, wasting no time with slow, 'warm-up' thrusts. He needs you now, and he's going to take it. You lie back on the table, your head rolling back on the wood, moans muffled by the thick fabric of his neckerchief, the taste of his skin faint on your tongue and lips. His cock is perfect, the right length, the right thickness, and with an upward curve that brushes against your g-spot with every thrust, making your thighs tremble and your core feel warm.  
  
Your hands can't find anywhere comfortable to rest, roaming over your shirt, fiddling with the buttons before attempting to grip onto the wood. Micah chuckles to himself, enjoying the sight of you mewling beneath him. "That's it, keep squirmin' for me," he pleasantly hums, his hands trailing across your thighs before getting comfortable around your hips.  
  
You're almost certain that at least a single, poor camp member has overheard this mess, probably even seen it, as you two are fucking literally in the middle of camp, right in front of Dutch's tent. You're thankful you put yourself on guard duty tonight, even if you have bailed on your chore, else some unfortunate soul would have to stand on the outskirts of the camp, overhearing you two going at it.  
  
Micah slams his cock into you, holding it deep inside for a moment, so he can shrug off his thick, leather coat, leaving him in his barely-buttoned-up shirt, his chest on show as his shirt hangs almost open. The hickeys you left on his neck earlier are starting to grow in colour, and his neck is going to be covered by the time morning comes. You look forward to seeing the art show of purple bruises along his pale skin, though you'll have a matching pallet on your own neck.  
  
Micah starts up his thrusts again, gripping onto your hips once more. You're surprised his thrusts are so perfect, quick and deep, yet a slight roll to his hips, and that hungry and lustful look across his face makes your pussy tighten every time he makes eye contact with you. He's grinning at the sight of you, licking his lips, admiring your vibrant, rosy cheeks, highlighted by the lantern somehow still on the table.  
  
"Fuck!" You whimper as Micah lands a particularly perfect thrust, and your hand finds its way down to your clit, touching yourself whilst Micah continues to do the rest of the work.  
  
"Good girl," he praises. "So good for me, ain'tcha? Lettin' me fuck you right in the middle of camp. I knew you were a little bit dirty, but I never thought you'd be such a whore."  
  
Is it bad that those words coming from this man's mouth is music to your ears? You sigh at his comment, rubbing your pussy faster, your walls tightening around his length. Micah notices the way you're reacting to his comment, and let's out a pleasing chuckle.  
  
"Tell me who's whore you are, sugarpie," Micah orders.  
  
"Yours," you attempt to reply through the muffle of Micah's neckerchief gag.  
  
"What was that? I didn't quite catch that, doll."  
  
"Yours," you reply again.  
  
Micah chuckles once more, catching you off guard as he bucks his hips into you. "C'mon, doll, cum for me," he comments, and you're uncertain if that was an order or a beg, but either way, you're not going to deny him.  
  
  
A few more quick thrusts, combined with the way you're touching yourself, and you're cumming, clenching around Micah's length as you moan and sigh, your volume levels thankfully muffled by Micah's gag, else you'd definitely wake the few members of the camp up.  
  
"Ah, hell!" Micah swears as he hits peak, filling you up with his load as he slams his cock deep inside you, shuffling his weight against the table and propping himself up with one arm, his knees threatening to buck beneath him. He grunts deeply, sighing and panting, tightly gripping onto your thigh as he rides his high. Micah's eyes falls shut, and there's the definition of debauched on his face; vibrant red cheeks, and a sweaty forehead, and blown pupils once he finally opens his eyes again.  
  
He's still panting as he pulls his length out, tucking himself away and fastening his pants up before offering you a hand. He helps pull you up off the table, your back clicking as you move; you stand, and you feel your knees go weak and buck beneath you, but Micah clings onto you before you can fall.  
  
"Careful," he comments with a laugh, his hands lingering on you before letting go, and you notice that glisten to his eye as his lock onto yours.  
  
You unfasten your gag, stretching your mouth muscles now you're finally free, and attempt to hand Micah his neckerchief back. He rejects it, "You might wanna wear it for a while, you've got an awful lot of marks on that pretty neck of yours."  
  
You tilt your head in confusion, but you know what Micah's implying, especially after the comment he makes next. "Bet you're tired, how's about _we_ go to bed, hm?"  
  
"Sure, Micah," you smile at his reply, and begin picking up the clothes thrown about on the floor around the both of you.  
  
"What was that smile for?" Micah questions with a raised brow as he removes his hat from the table, placing it onto his head.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Come on," you send him that same smile, and he follows closely behind, letting you lead the way to your tent. Is it still just your tent? Or is a certain someone going to start slowly moving in, especially after he told you earlier how long he's been waiting for this.  
  
  
Well, there's no getting rid of him now.


End file.
